


It Howls

by VeloxVoid



Series: VeloxVoid's Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Planet, Chases, Exploration, Family, Family Feels, Fear, Fear of Death, Gen, Horror, Hypnotism, Lullabies, New Planets, On the Run, Outer Space, Psychological Horror, Sentient Forest, haunted forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: You do not leave the nest. The nest is the only form of safety in this world. And if you do leave, you do not - under any circumstances - enter the forest.Yet the fledgling, so foolish and naive, does just that. The forest holds bad things – unspeakable things - and they suffer the consequences of disobeying.
Series: VeloxVoid's Original Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898653
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	It Howls

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first horror piece I ever wrote.
> 
> This is my original piece for "Red Zone II: Space" - a zine run by ".Zines". You can find more info on this free, space-themed zine here: https://twitter.com/dotzines/status/1289195723926323200?s=20

Why had they strayed so far from the nest?

The memory came back to them as clear as day - the chief's final warning before they'd finally left on their foolish, naïve quest.

"Do _not_ stray into the forest."

But, the forest had called to the young fledgling. The wind that howled and whistled on the outside - beyond the nest - was like nothing they'd ever heard before. Natural, and archaic, it stirred a memory that had been buried deep within their blood somewhere, awakening something primal inside them. The wind sang around their ears with its sweet, high tones, and the fledgling became alert - became _awake_. Their eyes felt more open; the white radiance of the Great Light in the sky above them forced its way painfully through their pinprick pupils, and - finally - they felt alive.

Why had they never ventured outside before? Their blood hurtled through their veins and their feet moved forwards. It was as though the wind beckoned; its call was like velvet in their ears - so soft and smooth and beautiful. The fledgling supposed it sounded just like the lullaby they'd always been lulled to sleep by back in the nest: comforting, soothing, and familial. Yet now, it did not cradle them into the soft embrace of slumber, but _enlightened_ them. They loved it. They needed it. They _craved_ it. 

And they'd followed it.

The fledgling now realised that they shouldn't have. There was a reason that their colony never left the nest - why their kind were born inside those great towering walls built centuries ago, spent their lives there, and died there without ever stepping foot outside. Now, as the young one stood in the centre of the forest, with the Great Light sinking below the horizon, they were completely alone. The wind had stopped calling - had ceased its warming, comforting song - to leave a silence. A slight rustle whispered through the leaves that adorned the branches of the thick, towering trees all around them.

And they were lost. 

The Great Light setting caused the sky above them to grow ever darker. Its intense, near-blinding white had managed to slip through the canopy to cast a flaxen haze through the forest, bathing the leaves in green and trunks in brown, but those colours faded more by the second. The red was creeping into the sky again; the fledgling had seen its bloody glow every night, through the nest's small windows, and had never failed to feel a chill sneak its way through their every nerve at the sight.

The Venerated Light’s lustre was not nearly so comforting as the white of the Great Light. The Great Light indicated safety, and warmth, and the brightness of day. It meant the colony would be awake, and busy, and happy. But the blood-red of the Venerated Light reminded the fledgling of the lonely nights - of when everything was silent, and the rest of the colony slept. Those were cold times, and quiet times. 

The air grew cold around them now, and the silence chilled them to the bone. The fledgling had almost expected to find creatures; within the nest, in the river that wound its way through the settlement with buildings built up all around it, lived those funny aquatic creatures. And in the vegetation the colony grew resided tiny irritating critters, with their many legs and delicate wings. The forest was so vast - had already stretched for a length previously impossible for the fledgling to comprehend - yet nothing lived. No tiny critters chirped and buzzed, and no bigger organisms crossed their path. It was as though nothing existed except the trees.

All that lived here were the foreboding forms of trunks, and the bristling leaves that stretched so far into the sky they seemed wont to touch the Venerated Light itself. Their wooden fingers yearned for the crimson that spread across the atmosphere now, as though begging to be soaked in its glow. They got their wish. The once-green leaves had faded to grey, and now they were awash with red. The fledgling did not like it. They did not like this place.

Why had they strayed so far from the nest, into the one place the chief had told them never to go? The fledgeling turned, hoping to weave a way back through the forest they’d become so deeply lost in--

Until it _growled_.

For a second, it sounded almost like the wind’s song that had brought them here, lighting a flickering hope within them. They wanted more of it - more of that sweet, inspiring song. But the tune turned sour at once; a soft murmur rose from beneath the fledgling, making the soft and marshy dirt rumble under their bare feet. It made them stop in their tracks, ears pricked, _listening_.

And it grew louder. Still soft, and low - no more than a deep grumble - but unnerving nonetheless. Stirring the fledgling's blood, it seemed to speak, rising higher and falling lower in random patterns as though attempting to communicate, _mocking_ the fledgling’s language.

What was it saying…? The fledgling wanted to run - to bolt through the trees back into the safety of the nest they should not have left - but they were stuck. They listened closely as the grumble grew louder - more coherent; their heart began to skip beats as they strained to hear - they could almost make out a hiss of certain sounds, and certain syllables--

_… No…_

That was not speech; it was not language. It was a slither - almost moist-sounding above the grumble. A chill crept slowly up the fledgling's spine, tingling at their every nerve until they shivered; despite the Venerated Light casting a hot red glow in the sky above them, they felt _cold_. The whispers became louder, a creak lining them, as though something were stretching with protest.

It grew closer. The fledgling looked down, to the soft dirt below their feet littered with fallen leaves, to see the trees’ roots weaving their way slowly across the ground towards them. Their tips reached out with writhing fingers, clawing through the vespertine darkness to secure their prey in their grasp.

That prey was the fledgling. They had to leave.

_Now._

Their legs took off at full speed. For a moment they were reminded of their childhood, when they were chased around the nest by their screaming friends, taunts tickling their ears that they were "gonna getcha!", but this was different. Never before in their childhood had bile risen in their throat as they’d run, nor had their vision turned black from pure, unbridled panic, images fading in and out of existence before them as they sucked in air.

Never in their childhood had they run until their muscles had burned and cramped, but still been so desperate to continue for the overwhelming, irrepressible fear of _death_.

Yet now, they ran with the most purpose, and panic, and unadulterated fear they had ever felt before. They had thought they'd needed the wind's song all that time ago as they’d stood outside the nest, but that urge was nothing in comparison to this. Now, they _needed_ to get away.

The forest was endless. Each tree was identical, copied a thousand times as the fledgling ran through them all. Trunks and branches darted in and out of their vision, leaves flying around them as if hoping to distract them. Yet still they ran, never ceasing, for what felt like hours on end.

And they saw it. The edge of the treeline, where the Venerated Light illuminated the flat expanse of packed dirt before the forest began. Relief flooded them, but did not slow their movements; they continued to run on exhausted, seizing legs whilst heaving searing breaths. Just a few more steps - just a few seconds longer - and they would be safe, could return to their home and to their parents and to the deploring gaze of the chief who had warned them not to come here--

Something thick and sharp wrapped around their ankle. It stopped them in their tracks, sending them sprawling to the ground where their breath left their lungs at once.

They felt their eyes grow wide.

_No._

The forest had caught them.

_No!_

Its roots ensnared their legs, twisting around them slowly and painfully until it felt their bones would snap. They were dragged; the ground opened up beneath them and they were swallowed down into it as if entering the gullet of some great beast.

The fledgling could not even panic anymore. Their mouth was open in a silent scream, jaw trembling, but they knew it was no use. They would not see the Great Light again. The nest, their parents, and the chief were all gone. Forever.

The last thing they heard, as the crumbling dirt filled their vision and all light faded from around them, was the wind: the melodic whistle dancing lightly in their ears. The howl had caught up to them once more.


End file.
